Boogey Time
by Sapphire98
Summary: Harry Dresden, Wizard/Gumshoe for Hire, is faced with children snatched from their beds by persons, or things, unknown. Set before Storm Front.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **After a string of kidnappings, SI decides to call Chicago's best Wizard PI. Well, the _only _one. And so, with typical Dresden luck, he ends up facing an old fable that might end up killing him.

Anything else new?

Nope, not really.

* * *

For anyone that has ever had repeated prank calls, you should know the endless patience it takes to try and not imagine you reaching into the phone and strangling the person as they try to muffle their laughter. I honestly feel extremely sorry for Domino's, considering a lot of people call there just to ask for Pizza Hut's number. That many prank calls are enough to wear on anyone's nerves.

Harry Dresden, Wizard for Hire, at your service.

As I started to leave to buy some ramen noodles, (business had been slow) the damned phone started ringing again.

I picked it up and growled, "The Force is not with me. And yes, magic is real. Good day."

It had just been that kind of day.

"Dresden," a curt voice greeted me. "How many prank calls have you gotten today?"

"Murphy?" I asked. Thank God. Anymore time without business and I might have to resort to chewing on my shoes.

"We have another case for you now, Dresden," Murphy said, clipped, professional. "Come down over to CPD. This one is a real doozy."

"Why thank you, lieutenant, I happen to be fine," I gushed. The fake sweetness in my voice was dripping enough to give about fifty people diabetes. "You? Your family? Charmicael? The Special Investigators?"

"Dresden. I'm serious." She said, her voice quietly urgent and serious.

I sobered up. It _has _to be something serious if she was quietly asking. Murphy was _the _tough girl. If anything could make her quiet and bothered_, _that spoke volumes of what this case was all about. "What is it?"

"We need to talk. I need your take on this immediately. I'll give you the case file as soon as you come to CPD." She hung up.

I stared at the phone. Tough Girl Murphy, faintly disturbed, and more amazingly, showing it?

I got into the Blue Beetle and started for the Chicago Police Department. A couple things could make Murphy sound sick over the phone. Grisly murders, the supernatural, sappy romances, corrupt politicians and the like. Meh, it could even be some supernaturals coming out of the Undertown to play.

With my luck.

I pulled over to the CPD visitor's parking lot, nodding towards the desk sergeant as he looked at me with beady eyes that told me that he knew exactly who I was and exactly what he thought of it. I'll give you a hint. It was not good.

As I strode over to the Special Investigations wing of the CPD, I brooded the whole way. What we (stereotyped PI) wizards did best.

I stopped in front of Murphy's door. It was the same, without any of those fancy plaques that said who the commander was and all that good stuff. There were (apparently) not enough funds to provide for the commander of Political Siberia.

I opened the door and walked in to find Murphy waiting for me.

You read that right. _Waiting._

She was a rose petal under five feet, and had the looks of a perky cheerleader, if she wasn't sitting in the SI's commander office. She had sunshine-y blonde hair and baby blue eyes that would belong perfectly on some innocent little sister, and not the hard-assed cop that I knew today. She is the complete opposite of me, what with me being taller than normal people and having pretty dark features. Whereas my features are sharp and angular, her's was soft and round.

I walked up to her desk and took a seat.

"So, what's the case?" I asked, hoping to go for casual. I'd like to enjoy my ignorance as long as I can, thank you very much.

"You won't like it," she warned. She handed me the case file and I skimmed it. What I gleaned from the paper was rather…disturbing.

**On December 1, seven 6-year-old children were reported missing by their parents. They had reported that after they were tucked in at night, they were all found missing from their beds, with no trace whatsoever. A kidnapping is suspected, the motive is currently unknown, and certain parties are to be watched until further evidence appears.**

"Seven kids? What the hell?" I felt faintly sick, and then angry with the bastard that would snatch innocent children from their beds.

Murph grimaced. "I know. All were found missing from their beds, and there was no sign that there was a burglary. In fact, there was no sign that anyone had forced into the houses, period. According to the parents, the window wasn't even open, and at first it just seemed like their kids had just woken up early. At least, until they realized that they couldn't find them anywhere. So what do you think?"

"I think that whoever did this was good. If it was anything supernatural, they were able to break the threshold of the home," I said, actually serious for once. I think it shocked me more than Murphy. "If they were human, then they were experienced in leaving no trace behind. Were there any prints?"

"Harry, please tell me we pay you to come up with _good _ideas and nothing the boring old logic way," she said. "Of _course, _Dresden. We came up with _nothing_. Almost like a ghost came in and snatched them out."

I nodded, digesting the information. "Well, you pay me to help you. Besides, I need the money. I was almost ready to eat my shoes before you called me."

"So what do you think?" she asked. "Our 'suspects'," she made those little air quotes with her fingers, "are basically the usual. Some weird psycho decides to snatch little kids, or the kids decide to pick up and run away. Like I said, the usual. I need to know if it's supernatural or not."

"It sounds like it could be an evil spirit. What kind, I have no idea,"

"And I thought we paid you for making the unknowable knowable," she said. "Harry, come on. Innocent _kids _could be scared and waiting for someone, _any_one to Show Up." Her face was troubled, but I could tell that she was holding in a lot more trepidation than she was showing. I wanted to cup her face and tell her it'll be all right, but that's just my chauvinist tendencies talking.

See, I have this instinct that makes me uncomfortable when women are about to cry and/or be hurt. Call me an old-fashioned chauvinistic pig, but I'm the type of person that holds doors for women, pulls out chairs, the whole load. Murphy calls it my Cro-Magnon instinct because it causes me to reach for the nearest femur and Flintstone the nearest person that hurts another woman.

So sue me. I think that women should be treated right.

"Give me a day, Murph," I said, "I think I'll be able to scrounge up enough information. Besides, we can't just charge into the lion's den without packing enough guns to shoot them into next week. Then shoot them into next year if they, or we, are stupid enough to come back for more."

She bit her lip, looking completely vulnerable then. Way too vulnerable to be the hard-ass cop that she is today. God, she looked like she should be tearing up over a bad break-up instead of seven kids that were just kidnapped.

"Fine," she said. "But give me a report as soon as you can. We don't know if the kids are going to be okay when we Show Up to get them."

I stood up and left, ready to catch the bastard that would snatch seven kids from their parents.

But first, I needed to pay a visit for my favorite (by default) talking skull.

* * *

**A/N: **Aaanndd I just ran out of creative-ness. Sorry, but don't expect an update anytime soon. _Anyways, _what did you think of the story? I thought it was pretty good, but, you know, it's my story so of course I'd like it. :D Yes, I am biased. Sue me. Thank you people for reading it! Don't forget to review!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Dresden Files_. Jim Butcher owns them.

**Edit: **I know that I spelt boogie wrong. It was intentional.


	2. Chapter 2

Cars are pretty powerful.

They run by horsepower, which is pretty self-explanatory. The average horsepower in a car is about 110, but it really just depends on the size of the engine and whether or not the company is willing to shell out the dough for high-class materials.

So say, a car rams into you at 80-100 miles an hour. Depending on the material of the car, the worst it could do is dent it. The _worst _it could do is obvious. Death.

Considering that my car was a Volkswagen Beetle from the 50s, and the car that just "happened" to run into me was a _very_ nice quality limo, I'm pretty sure I got the short end of the stick (ah ha ha).

I noticed it just a heartbeat before it could smack into the front of the car. I turned the Beetle sharply to the right, so it would dent the right door instead of my face.

Inertia from the crash knocked me left and the window smacked said side of my face. Everything went blurry. I shook my head, trying to get it clear. It did, gradually, but not early enough. That damned limo got away before I could catch its license plate. The only thing that I caught was that the limo was dark purple and fast.

I felt a breeze and looked at the right of my car. It. Was. Ruined. The bastard had wrecked my car! I thought about my poor anorexic wallet. Yeah, it'll be a while before I could afford to fix that door. And that was only a little of what I actually felt.

Mostly, I was furious at how easily I was almost killed. It was also extremely sobering. I know that I'm human like everyone else, but my magic always had my back. Then again, who had my _magic's _back?

That would be me. I sighed, and then reviewed the damage. The best I could do is to keep driving to my apartment.

Keep swimming forward. That's me.

As I re-started the engine, I kept a better eye at suspicious looking limos and cars. The hit to the head affected me more than I thought though, so as long as the jerks were spying on me with elephants and trumpets, I was a-okay.

There weren't any other episodes of temporarily psychotic urges to attack innocent Beetle drivers on the streets with limos on my ride back to my apartment, so I was grateful. Now if only I could stop getting into these 'accidents' in the first place, it would make my life so much easier. I got out of the car and started toward the door of my apartment, getting out the keys.

I opened the door, and there was my apartment in all its humbleness. As a wizard, people usually expect us to live in dark towers and huge mansions. A wizard like me, (i.e stereotype breaking) just lives in a basement. My apartment is fairly small and has a lot of comfy second-hand furniture. Everything is run without electricity. Magic is convenient for some things, but the random energies that zap around us wizards just naturally hex all the modern electronics. That means that I live without water boilers, computers, and even light bulbs. Yes, you youngsters, it _is _possible to live without anything electric. Just not very convenient.

As per usual, my bobcat tackled my legs and almost succeeded in knocking me facedown on the floor. I really needed some Tylenol for my head. Mister the Bobcat started rubbing his head on my legs, started purring, then strutted onto the streets like he owned them. He probably thought he did.

Rubbing my head, I grabbed some Tylenol and some water, opened up my trap door, and clambered down a ladder to my lab/subbasement.

It was a fairly big place and was absolutely stacked with magical wizardly stuff, like depleted uranium. There were tables and a bookshelf. On top of the bookshelf, there was a skull bleached white with age, surrounded by trashy "best-seller" romance novels. No, I don't read them, the talking skull does.

"Wake up, Bonehead," I called.

Orange lights flickered on inside the eyeholes of the skull. "Bonehead? Seriously? You do know that _you're _one too, right?"

I scowled. I fell into that one pretty easily. "I have another case, so I need to ask some questions."

"Is it about demon squirrels again?" he started snickering.

"_No_, and it's not about 'haunted' mansions either. Or about flying carpets. It's –"

"About enhancing potions!" Bob said with an expression that would make someone wonder what exactly he meant. That's pretty impressive, considering that bone (as far as I'm aware of) doesn't move, flex, or bend.

"_No._ Come on, Bob. Seriously, let's focus."

"I'm just suggesting," he said in his 'reasonable' tone of voice. "But if you sell that stuff, we're going be responsible for a _lot_ of stacked ladies. Besides, you'll make the entire population of Earth happier."

"Bob, magic isn't used for stuff like that. Besides, I don't want to fall off the deep end with it." I cleared my throat. "_Anyways, _case. Money, remember?"

Bob snorted. Without a throat or a nose. I am always surprised by that. "You humans and money. I swear, when it comes to you mortals, that saying 'money makes the world go around' is absolutely true."

"I don't know about making the world go around, but it's one of the reasons why we aren't on the streets." I shrugged. "But it's fine. _You _won't be on the streets. You'll only be in a deep dark well." I started grinning.

"_Oh, _playing it dirty. Fine. What do you want to know?"

"The case I'm working on right now has seven kids gone missing. It just seems like they vanished out of their beds. This was _in _the house, _past _the threshold. What's powerful enough that it can get past a threshold _and _can make little kids vanish without a trace?"

Bob paused to think on that one. "Think about it this way. Did the kiddies accidentally invite a faery in? Did they willingly go with the faerie when they offered sweets and cookies?" he pursed his mouth… hole. "Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if the faerie held up a sign and said: 'Welcome to the Dark Side, we have cookies.'"

"So you think that the kids were lured away with Dark Side Cookies?" I asked. "I just hope they don't go Forceful on me when they get drunk with it." My internal hamster wheel started running. "Is it a childsnatcher?"

Bob gave me a droll stare. "Seven children missing and you _just _realize? No Harry, it's a cake maker that's working with Santa Claus for the winter season!"

I scowled and put the Tylenol pills into the glass of water that I brought down. I chugged it down and my headache slowly went from "eight seconds from unconsciousness" (with assistance from your friendly neighboorhood talking skull) to "under manageable levels of pain tolerance".

"Speaking of which, why do you have that black eye, Harry?" Bob asked.

"Ugh, it already turned into a black eye?" I made a face. "I got into a car crash with a limo."

"I don't think it made a difference to your hard head. When it comes to it, you got an adamantium upgrade somewhere along the line." he said completely straight-faced. Which was, you know, kind of typical for a skull.

"Glad I did, otherwise I would've died a long time ago." I glanced in the general direction of my car. "Speaking of dying, the limo mauled the right side of the Beetle. You don't happen to have any spare change lying around, do you?"

"Actually, yeah." His eyelights flashed bright enough to point towards a nickel. "I'm sure Mike'll love that." He went back to sniggering.

"Thanks Bob, I appreciate it," I said sarcastically.

"You're welcome."

I sighed, then went up to pick up the change, cause let's face it, everyone likes more change. I went back up the trapdoor. The poor little hamster in my head started spinning its wheel and wondered which faeries were infamous childsnatchers. I went through things from Wildfae to Summerfae to Winterfae. I shook my head. There were way too many suspects.

Then the hamster ran fast enough for there to be a light in the bulb. Duh, I should've thought about that before.

I went out the door and grabbed my staff, my blasting rod and some chalk. I needed to ask Murphy a question about where the missing children's parents lived.

After that, I'll do what I did best.

Magic.

* * *

**A/N: **Yes, another cliffhanger. I am merciless XD *Mwa ha ha ha ha...* How do you guys think it is? Reviews please. I like to see peoples' reactions, be they good or bad. Once again, as a procrastinator, I won't have a clear update schedule. So expect some at random times, unless you fancy math people can work out a complex equation in which it can tell whenever someone updates something. In which case, you will be rich if you sell it. It will be abused world-wide. Everyone'll use it for _everything. _XD


	3. Chapter 3

I sighed.

Another damn car ride.

I stared at the Blue Beetle suspiciously. The dented door was not doing the car any favors.

So sue me. I happen to be paranoid. It's a common trait in the circles that I run with. First you wonder if everyone's out there to kill you. It starts to develop into a gigantor persecution complex. And then you start working on each angle that someone, or some_thing, _can do to you (painfully) and pretty soon you start frothing at the mouth and not leaving your underground lair where you will soon never leave and have thousands of layers of booby traps that will ironically end up killing you because that's just the way that life works.

I am currently at the "everyone's trying to kill me" stage. I pray (in a Theological Switzerland kind of way) that it doesn't go any further than that. For example, car crashes with homicidal chauffeurs tend to strengthen that paranoia.

"Damn it," I muttered. "I can't just stand here having a staring contest with my car. There are kids that are kidnapped by some crazy faerie thingy." Some guy that was walking by looked at me like I was queer (and that's probably exactly what I looked like) and started walking faster. I sighed, dug out my keys and went in the car, muttering all the way.

"You know Harry, you have got to stop talking to yourself. I mean, that guy back there looked weirded out, and for good reason. I mean, if I saw a guy talking to themselves about faeries, I'd be walking faster too." I paused and thought some more. "That is, if I didn't know they even existed outside the Hollywood sets. I do, and I ended up getting a creepy-ass Sidhe lady that is determined to turn me into a damned dog. And there I go yammering about stuff that I shouldn't talk about." I sighed. "Damn habits… they die so hard."

Like I did earlier, I looked for potential limos/cars with a grudge against Beetles. Nothing attacked me, but I'm pretty sure that if they wanted to find me again, the smooshed multicolored Beetle would be an easy target to find.

I pulled over to the visitor's parking lot of CPD, got out and walked through the halls to the SI department. As I was about to open the door, I heard sobbing, and a deep voice comforting that person. I looked, and found Murphy looking compassionately at the people who I presumed to be one of the missing child's parents.

I knocked at the already open door. They all looked over in my direction.

Awkward.

I tried smiling pleasantly. "Hello, I'm just here to talk to Lieutenant Murphy. I can just wait in the hall when you're done." I started to close the door but the lady said in a quavering voice, "No, it's fine. Come on in." Her smile was wavering.

The lady was, if she was standing, about 5'6 and looked about in her early thirties. She was a stunner. She was a strawberry blonde with fierce green eyes. Her skin was cream colored, and her makeup was put on expertly. Or, it would've been had she not been crying. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and the mascara made it look like she was crying black tears.

Morbidly fitting, considering the mood.

She was wearing a black jacket with one of those fancy fur/Eskimo trims on the hood. She had on a white shirt and a blue skirt, matched by a red Prada purse. Whoever this lady was, she was stacked with money.

Her husband wasn't crying, but it was clear that he was holding it back. He had the air of someone like a rock. Steady and dependable looking, he had chestnut hair and had a muscular build and stood at about an even six feet. There was an oil stain at the collar of his shirt, so maybe he was a mechanic or something.

They looked over at the door and Murphy shot me a death glare.

"My name is Harry Dresden," I said in what I hoped to be a reassuring manner. Kind of harder than it looks when you have a black eye in tow. I can just feel the first impressions rolling. I was pretty sure they weren't good either.

I reached out my hand for them to shake.

They both shook it. They both had the practitioner's shock, but it was rather faint. Enough for them to have a vague premonition at least.

And that's what I was counting on. I silently started hoping that they had something of their kid's that I could use.

"My name's Marie, and this is Freidrich," the woman said.

The man, Freidrich, stood up. "Nice to meet you." He had a gravelly voice. I could just see the alpha male aura coming up. Black eye, bad impression. I was starting to hate that limo driver. More so than I already did, I mean.

"I'm working this case along with Lieutenant Murphy. I'm a private investigator. If you need any help at all, just call on me." I handed them my business card.

They both looked touched. Considering this is the Chicago Police, I wouldn't be surprised if they expected there to be assholes where the police officers should be.

Don't get me wrong. There are straight cops and good people. Like Murphy. At least, anyone willing to comfort people in their time of need is good in my book.

Like I said, black eyes don't make a good umpteenth impression. Or trolls. They sure give you a kickass first one though.

Yeah, most people who meet a 6'9 self-proclaimed (actual) wizard/(and, as Carmichael calls it) dangerous charlatan tend to be a bit cautious when around a potential crackpot. I don't blame them, but I envy their ignorance. They don't have to worry about the things that go bump in the night.

Usually.

Course, right now, the only thing I have to worry about is my Mickey Mouse alarm clock going "ring". But then, there are always bigger fish.

"Mr. and Mrs. LeFoir?" Murphy said, all business-like. "May we go back to the inquiry? As soon as we grab the information we need, we promise to get your kids back safe and sound," she said kindly. "So where were you when your child Joseph was kidnapped?"

They snapped to attention, all set on finding their kid. "We were in bed. Right after we told the bedbugs not to bite and when we checked his closet to get rid of the monsters."

"Did you happen to find anything?" Murphy asked.

"No, nothing, except the usual." Freidrich said.

"Both of you checked his room?" I asked. Murphy gave me yet another death glare.

"Yes. I was supposed to leave for work. I just wanted to see him before I left for a week." Freidrich smiled bitterly. He shed a few tears. "Now I might not see him at all."

"Did Joseph happen to meet anyone strange?" I asked. "Anyone that you didn't know?"

They thought about that one. "Not as far as I can tell," Freidrich said.

I nodded thoughtfully. "Well. Do you have anything of Joseph's we can use to find him?"

"Yes," Marie said. She dug around in her purse and produced a little pouch. "He just lost a baby tooth last week. I honestly didn't know what we were going to do with it, but we both had that gut feeling that we needed it. I would like to know what you would do with it though."

"As would I," Murphy cut in. I think she was peeved that I stole her interrogation. She can live. After all, I'm the supernatural detective and _she's_ Tough Girl Murphy. I'd better be cautious for the next week or so, just in case.

"Magic," I said in a mysterious tone, accentuated with jazz hands. Their lips twitched at the corners. "May I borrow this? I'll bring it back as soon as we're done."

She handed the pouch to me. I took it with a word of thanks.

"I believe that would be all, Mr. and Mrs. LeFoir," Murphy said, smiling. They left, and from their body language, they were feeling a lot more hopeful than when they came in.

I set down the tooth and started drawing a circle around it.

"Magic?" Murphy asked. "What is it this time?"

"Thaumaturgy."

"Bless you."

I gave her a half-hearted glare. "Smart ass," I mumbled.

"That's Lieutenant Smart Ass to you, Dresden," she said. "So, what does thauma-something do?"

"Thaumaturgy," I corrected automatically. Justin DuMorne was big on perfection. I felt my hand twitch in anger. That was a past that I wanted to make sure stayed history. "It creates a link to the thing, or in this case, person, that I'm trying to find."

"So basically, you're homing in on Joseph's scent."

"Well, I don't become a bloodhound whenever I use this spell, but I can feel a pull towards whatever I'm looking for. Think gut instinct on steroids." It wasn't exactly like that, but it's the closest I could get to describing it.

I finished the circle and stepped inside it. "Do you want me to add some sparkles and a soda to this magic circle?" I asked Murphy jokingly. "Don't answer that."

I pushed my will, my anxiety, and my previous anger at earlier memories, into the circle to close it and murmured a tracking spell.

It probably didn't look like anything from the other side of the chalk line, but I felt some pull towards some place south west of the CPD. I could see a faint trail leading to the door and out into the Great Chicago. I smelt something a bit like candy and sweets too.

"I love the smell of napalm in the morning," I said humorously. Murphy gave me an oblique glance and sidled a step away. She didn't fool me though. I saw her rosy lips twitch at the corners.

"Whatever you say, Nick Carter*(1). I'm coming with you," she grabbed her cop jacket and marched towards the door. My Cro-Magnon instinct grunted. Danger to woman? Don't let it happen, you maroon*(2).

"Hey, wait a minute Murph. Are you sure that you should come with me? It could be dangerous."

"Dresden, a psycho is kidnapping kids. Of course it's going to be dangerous. Being a cop, it's _required_ to be in danger. I'm a big girl, Harry, and I can handle it."

I blocked the door. "Not the usual way. Like I said earlier, we have to pack enough guns to run off the lions in the den. I'm not letting you in there with a chance that you might die."

I could just see the feminist rights crusade she was going to give me. Oh boy. She squared her shoulders, faced me and if she could, she would've pulled a Medusa on me. "And it's okay that _you _want to go. Dresden, I have been tasered, pepper sprayed, beaten up, knifed, and shot. I think that I have amply proved that I am capable of defending myself when we first met. If I remember correctly, I choked the troll and helped you take it down. Hard-assed cops, even if they're girls, _can_ defend themselves."

I held my hands up in surrender. I would've argued some more, but I could see that she was not going to budge. This is what happens when an unstoppable force meets a movable object, I guess. The object gets flung all the way to infinity. And beyond.

Every instinct in me told me to let her stay in a safe place. Unfortunately, the 5 feet tall 'little lady' wasn't giving me enough room to make her back down. I sighed. _Murphy is a big girl now_, the rational part of my head said. _She went through the cop training and fought tooth and nail on the streets being one. She can look after herself._

_Yeah_, the grumpy part of my head responded. _But it doesn't mean I have to like it._

"Fine," I said grudgingly. I un-blocked the door. "But before we go, make sure you use the iron bullet shells instead of the lead ones."

"Why?"

"Because we're hunting faeries. Now, Lieutenant Smart Ass, follow me."

* * *

**A/N: **Now that I have finished cramming/hopefully passing finals, I am now free to write a story (:D). This was written throughout a couple of days, so that's why it's a bit longer than the chapters that i usually write. *Sigh of Relief* I can finally go back to a 9-hour sleeping schedule. Good Morning/afternoon/night. Merry Christmas/Kwanzaa/Hanakuh/Holidays! And for you people that believe in the end of the world, please leave any cool or awesome stuff at my address. P. Sherman 42, Wallaby Way, Sydney (from Finding Nemo). It's fake, for you people that had ideas. Sickos XD

*(1): This is something that most people probably wouldn't know about. Nick Carter is the name of a bloodhound that (according to Wikipedia) is considered the archetype of bloodhounds, trailing and helping the police capture more than 600 convicts and is hailed as the greatest man-trailer in history (according to the Boerner's Bloodhounds website).

*(2): Also, before you guys get on with me not being able to spell (which would be partially true... heh heh heh...), Bugs Bunny says 'maroon' instead of 'moron'. Just another random shout out to a character.

Also, in case you guys didn't read the edit on the first chapter, 'Boogey' is mispelt intentionally.


	4. Chapter 4

We got to the Blue Beetle. Murphy took one look at the poor little thing and gave me a 'what the hell happened to your car' look.

"I call driver's," I said instead.

"Jesus, Dresden, what happened to your car?" she asked. "Last I checked, the 'Blue' Beetle was in…" she paused, trying to pick out some semi-un-offensive word about my car. Smart. Never insult a man's car within earshot. "It was in a workable condition. Now…" she trailed off. We both started walking towards the car and went in.

I turned on the engine and we started towards wherever the kids were. I was expecting the worst. After all, that's usually all my life has ever given me.

"Car accident. Or rather, 'accident'." I used the little finger air quotes with one hand. "I didn't have enough money to repair the car though, so I had to keep driving."

"Why didn't you just call 911?" she asked, probably purely for the cop form.

"Well, I don't have a phone for one thing," I pointed out.

She had a look of shock on her face, her blue eyes widening, but she quickly recovered. Not quickly enough, however. "Oh. Wait, why didn't anyone _else_ call?"

That struck something hard. Or rather, it motivated the hamster to spin its wheel with Harry Hamster Food*. The bystanders had slipped from my mind. I was more focused on survival, after all. But it was odd that in the middle of the street, in _broad daylight, _no one decided to call 911 for a poor guy in a car crash and a murderous limo hit-and-run.

Us humans are hardwired to help others. It's natural. Even if it's in an indirect way, like calling 911, you can't deny that they _try_. There are always a few exceptions, like exceedingly selfish people, sociopaths, and all that lovely stuff. Most hit-and-runs that I know of normally merit a 911. And for some reason, I highly doubt that _every_ bystander in that area were exceptionally selfish and/or sociopathic.

We were being hidden in some way. Us _and _the little psychopath chauffeur.

Damn it, we were being veiled.

"Shit," I muttered, and extended my wizardly senses. There was something that felt a bit like a dusty cobweb that tickled my senses and clung all around the car. And I felt another cobweb cluster quickly approaching.

Murphy saw it coming as soon as I felt it. "Dresden, watch out!" she called. I swerved the car to the left as fast as I could and just _barely _missed the homicidal maniac. This seems awfully familiar, I thought, except there was no concussion.

The purple limo raced by, once again disappearing in the Chicago traffic. I noticed that the cars around it did nothing to avoid the limo, while the limo itself seemed to barely miss the bumpers of most of the cars. Whatever the damn bastard was, he wasn't human.

I also noticed that even though the license plate _should _be in full view, there was only a blank white plate where it should've been.

"Harry, was that the maniac you were talking about?" Murphy asked, her voice a subtle note higher. She looked around pensively. "Why doesn't anyone seem to notice?"

"I'm pretty sure that the deranged chauffeur put on a veil on us," I said. I was feeling tense and jittery. Hey, living through a car crash _and_ a near miss of one does wonders on your vigilance. And your adrenaline levels. I looked around nervously, still using my wizard senses. Nothing bad was coming our way, so far. "A veil is magic used to keep something hidden. And they were very skilled with it."

For someone that's not _quite _accustomed to the supernatural popping out of the movie sets, Murphy was handling the invisibility news quite well. She swallowed, nodded and said, "We better keep driving. Before that guy comes back."

"Or," I said as menacing as I could manage at the time. "Some_thing_."

She gave me a look crosswise. "Been waiting to say that, haven't you?" she asked.

"Nah, it comes up often enough. It's the gig. I see people like this all the time, and I figure, 'why not?'" I realized that I was babbling. So I feel fear. Sue me. If my opponent can work magic as complex as a veil with _two _moving objects, then they're either talented in other places (which would still be a bad thing) or they're stronger than me (which would be even worse). Damn, I was really hoping that Bob was wrong about his assumption that the faeries are the culprit, but Lady Luck seems to have run out on me years before. "If I'm going out, and that's a big possibility, I might as well piss the thing off as much as I can before making the big triple lindy."

"Dresden," Murphy said calmly. She looked at me in the eyes and we locked our gazes. I looked away. "We should get going."

Though the words were blunt, there was a comforting note in her tone. Years of living in Political Siberia with people not knowing what happened to their lives, I guess. I'm pretty sure that as the commander of the Supernatural Siberia _has _to comfort her clients so that they don't have a mass panic attack after finding out that the so called "fairy tales" are real, even if she herself doesn't know. And she also has to face the bigger nasties too.

Humans.

I swallowed and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, we should. You keep an eye on the crazy psychopath trying to kill us. Earn your keep, and all that."

"Right."

I started the car and drove out into the Windy City.

I must admit, I drove faster than the speed limit for most of the trip. But it was all because of the fact that the tracking spell was wearing out. Really.

Hell, I think Murphy was thinking that too. She didn't say anything, after all.

After about an hour of taking unnecessary turns while still trying to get to the kidnapping hideout, we arrived at the dinky part of Chicago Downtown. And this part was _dinky._

It was almost like a stereotypical slum. There were the blinking lights, suspicious-looking stain-splattered walls, the dark alley, and was even matched by its stereotypical dinky little dance club. By dinky, I mean "meeting place of drug traffic and gangs".

"Well," I said, not to anyone in particular. "At least they made it as obvious."

"Tell me about it," Murphy replied. "There should be a sign. 'suspicious characters galore'."

"Speaking of signs, take a look at this one. The Boogey Man?" The Boogey Man? If the sign's going to be taken literally, then it would explain how they snuck past the threshold, kidnapped the kids, _and _ran an overly clichéd dance club. Damn, it _was _a faerie.

"Huh. That's actually kind of clever," she said.

"Yeah. In your face and enough to fly below the radar," I replied. "Say Murph, do you believe in the Boogeyman?" I tagged on casually.

Boogeymen don't really fit the stories that people give them. They're a bit more flexible than the average faerie, which lets them modernize. By 'flexible', I mean 'slightly less stiffer than the average wooden board'. The only thing that they _can _do is modernize. If they see any kid doing _any_thing bad, they take up their sack and voila, a kidnapping case to go. Literally.

There are also different kinds, depending on the kind of mythos people have on them. There's Bogeyman, Boogeyman, der Butzemann, but they all have one thing in common. They kidnap misbehaving kids in one way or another. Or, instead of kidnapping, they eat them. Why faeries worry about misbehaving kids, I don't know. I guess everyone needs a hobby.

Though most of them are not nearly so gruesome.

I've also heard that they sometimes disguise themselves as your average wayward salesman. There's a reason that they try to force themselves in for "demonstrations".

"Dresden, you do know that it's just a child's scare, right?" she said in that tone you use for crazy people.

"Murphy, you do know that there's a lot more to this world than meets the eye, right?" I said in exactly the same tone that she used. "For example. Boogeymen exist and they work on 'good behavior'. Thankfully they're weak to iron, which you have. And I don't." Maybe I didn't think this one as well as I should have. Oh well. At least I still have my blasting rod, staff, shield bracelet and the best weapon of all: the ability to piss off anything that breathes. After all, an angry enemy is an easy one. Usually.

Murph sighed. "I thought so. That's why I brought another gun with me." She handed me what looked like Glock 22. "Next time, you should probably think these things through."

"Yes, I probably should." I took the gun gratefully. I might be a wizard, but I see nothing wrong in putting a bullet in the thing that wants to kill you. "You did put the iron bullets in, right?"

"Yeah. Hey, why are faeries weak to silver?"

"Who knows? The laws of magic are very iffy." I stared up at the bar. "Right now, I'm just hoping that death took a holiday."

"Yeah. Ready?"

"Sure."

We both took a deep breath and opened the door.

If you could call it "opening".

You see, in a movie, the door would open easier than expected, but maybe it'll even have an ominous creaking noise. We would creep in with scary music playing in the background, sneak in and rescue the kids, and if Lady Luck was feeling generous today, we can run for the hills and live to fight another day.

Unfortunately, this door was locked.

"Okay, that's it," I said. I aimed my staff at the door. "If covert won't cut it, maybe overt will. _Forzare!"_

A wave of force rushed out from my staff and made contact with the door. The door was blown inwards as the unexpected pressure flung the pieces all around the dance club.

Murph didn't even bother hiding her surprise on that one. She's seen me pull a few tricks on some cases, but not a demonstration this big. "Well," she said, swallowing. "That escalated quickly."

"The suspense was killing me," I shrugged. "_Now _do you think we're ready?" I asked.

"Well, considering you blasted the door open, it'll be a waste if we decided to just go back. Just remember that you're paying for the door." _This _time we started forward.

The inside of the dance club wasn't in any less of a condition than the outside. Which is to say, there were broken door fragments everywhere, and they knocked down a couple of bottles of alcohol. The smell of it pervaded the air. Okay, so that was my fault. Sue me.

We looked around, and there was really nothing to note of it. It was like the slum; stereotypical, dark, and gloomy. The tracking spell was still working its magic (ah ha ha), and there was a pull towards the back door.

"There," I pointed. I didn't bother lowering my voice after busting through the door. Come to think of it, where is everybody? I mean, the villain usually would've been shouting his cheesy dialogue by now.

We walked cautiously towards the door. I tentatively reached out with my wizard senses. There weren't any traps as far as I could tell on the door. I opened the back door. Only, there were stairs leading down to a dark basement.

"This is exactly the place where I'd expect a Boogeyman to live in," I muttered. As far as I could tell, there wasn't even a light switch. I grabbed the necklace from around my neck. I murmured a magic word and then the necklace started to glow with a blue-white light.

My necklace was my only keepsake of my mother. It was in the shape of a pentacle surrounded by a circle. It represents magic, with the circle representing human will. Speaking of my mother, I never knew her because she died in childbirth. Hell, I was an orphan because my father had died of an aneurysm. I grew up to be quite independent because of this. Unwillingly.

"Huh, nifty," Murph remarked. We went down the stairs.

There was a whole bunch of nothing on the walk. To be honest, I expected the Boogeyman to guard his hunts or "trophies". I shivered involuntarily at the thought. Great. Another nightmare added to my subconscious tape collection.

We reached the bottom of the stairs. It was below pitch black down there. The tracking magic running out, but it was pulling me towards the end of the endless, black room.

I really couldn't give any details about the basement. The only light came from my necklace and even that didn't give too much information to a potential battleground. There was a black floor, and you couldn't even see the ceiling. Black as a nightmare, we crept forward. The room smelled dank, like it had never been aired.

This far underground though, I honestly didn't expect it to.

We reached the wall and saw seven kids chained to the wall. There were three girls and four boys in total.

All of them were sitting on the floor, with their eyes focused on something that only they could see. A couple had their arms around their legs; some sat cross-legged, and some just didn't care how they sat. Some looked like a marionette with their strings cut. They all had one thing in common. They were all lifeless except for their eyes, always staring at that one spot that only they could see.

There didn't seem to be any chains though. I guess it would be redundant, considering that they weren't even trying to get through the open door.

"Oh my God," Murphy said, horrified. "What did he do to them?!"

I suddenly felt very angry. "The little _bastard_!" I snarled. Calm down, calm down, I thought to myself. You can't do anything pissed off; you'll be completely useless. Think things through. You've only done it all your life, it shouldn't get hard now.

Once I felt sufficiently calmed down, I thought about the logical things. How do I get the kids to snap out of their trance?

I used my wizard senses to look at the magic surrounding them. I felt… images would be the best word, around them. What they were, I didn't know, and considering that this was caused from a famed Boogeyman, I had no desire to know. They were different for each kid too, but I couldn't really tell what it was.

I guess my best option was to cut them off from the magic. I got out my chalk and started to draw a (misshapen) circle around them.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Murphy asked. "Drawing circles won't help these kids."

A voice suddenly boomed. "Well, well," it rumbled smugly. It was an interesting mix between a snake's hiss and nails on a chalkboard. "What have we here. A meddlesome little wizard and his pet mortal."

"Pet!?" Murphy shouted indignantly.

"Meddlesome?!" I said in the exact same tone.

Oh boy. Let the cheesiness begin.

* * *

**A/N: **Let me get some things straight. I'm sorry that this chapter is a bit (understatement) late, mostly because of laziness, my dad, life, and writer's block. I will not apologize for having a life, a dad and writer's block, but I _will _apologize for the laziness. Part of the reason for it being late is that, hey, if I'm going to make you wait, might as well let it be a half-decent chapter. Thank you people for sticking with me so far though! Reviews appreciated, I'd like to know how to make the story better!

By the way, I'm not even going to _try _and hide the fact that the ending was a cliffhanger :P

*Harry Hamster Food is (apparently) real hamster food. I found it off the internet and the internet _never _lies :D


	5. Chapter 5

The heroes (Murphy would kill me if I called her a sidekick) would stick around until the end of the long villainous speech about his motives and then will face the stunning conclusion to the end of the story.

Unfortunately for the Boogeyman, faeries don't have any particular motives. They just _are._ You can't exactly tell a lion to take a diet, now can you?

Before the Boogeyman spoke another clichéd word, Murphy and I both fired a couple rounds of iron into the sucker.

And they all went right through him.

"Dammit, an illusion!?" I cursed. "Then where's the real thing?!"

"Backs against the wall NOW, Dresden!" Murphy called back. She made a sound of frustration. "Damn, why wasn't there a light switch when we came in!?"

I still had my pendant out. If the Boogeyman kidnapped kids in the wee hours of the night, it probably could see in the dark anyways. Unfortunately, us muggles, even if they're wizards, aren't as lucky.

Damn. Sometimes, I hate being a gentleman.

Something rushed at me, picking me up and flinging me to the other side of the basement. I hit the wall and my pendant blacked out as I let go of it.

"Damn." I scrabbled, looking for my mother's keepsake. I heard rapid fire from the other side of the room, and another scream. It didn't sound human, thank God, but right now it was only a matter of time before it got to both of us.

"Yes," I muttered, finding the pendant. Now the only problem was thinking up a way to kill that son of a bitch. Think, Dresden, think. What was something that I had that was cold iron?

An idea struck me. It wasn't particularly sane, but having no idea at all and just rushing at an invisible foe would just be plain suicide. But first, I had to be close to the beast.

And I had to make sure that Murphy trusted me, and vice versa. That's the friskiest part.

I shook the pendant, shoving my magic in it trying to get it turned on faster. The light coming from it was dim. Shit, I know I'm in trouble if lighting my necklace was getting harder. I only have one shot at this.

Something thumped heavily on the wall next to me. By the dim light of my pendant I could faintly see Murphy's outline. Good for me, not good for her. After being flung myself, with a monster about to get to us, this would definitely count as a rock and a hard place.

"Murph," I hissed. "Hey, snap out of it."

She was stunned, that much was obvious. To her credit, she recovered quickly. "What is it, Dresden?"

"I got a plan, but we have to act fast. I want you to scare the hell out of that thing." I was speaking as fast as I could. There's no telling where that thing was.

"What's that going to do?"

"Rip that fucking invisibility cloak into little pieces," I snarled. "At least that way, we can have an easier time killing an enemy we can see."

"Are you sure that this is going to work?" she asked forcefully. Her eyes were dimly lit, but I could see something fierce in her eyes. Was it determination, tightly leashed fear, stubbornness, or all three? I couldn't tell.

What I could tell was that she was willing to do whatever it takes to save the innocents.

"Yes," I said, hoping to God I wasn't lying. "Hurry!"

I saw a hint of hesitation on her face, but her jaw was set. Her expression told me she trusted me. My respect for her grew a couple notches.

Huh. Murphy was good people.

She fired a couple shots, trying to judge where the monster was. I saw a flicker of light on the corner of my eye. Evidently, she did too, because she was firing at that spot for all she was worth.

The monster wailed, and it felt like it was shaking the walls. The veil around it faltered, allowing us to glimpse what was behind the curtain.

And it just looked like an average man. Just another average Joe you could find on the street. Not too handsome, not too athletic, but there was something about the way it held itself, the way it screamed, that suggested that it was not even clos to human.

I couldn't see its eyes, but I could feel them. They were radiating hatred.

_If we make it through this alive_, I thought to myself, _I'm demanding double for my service_.

And now it was my turn. I scrabbled for the nickel Bob pointed out for me. I flipped it in the air and pointed my staff at it. "_Forzare!"_

Now magic uses emotions. It runs on them, and can enhance a spell. Imagine being stuck in the basement with basically Jack the Ripper on steroids with an invisibility cloak. Yeah, the adrenaline rush, fear, and desperation run quite high.

And all of that was behind a little nickel.

It shot like it was fired from a cannon and struck right in the middle of the Boogeyman. It punched a hole through to the other side. Blood and gore splattered everywhere.

And finally it collapsed.

Murphy and I stood there panting and looking at the predator that came so close to killing us all. We stood there for a solid minute, staring at that thing that looked like a man and each other.

"Well," I said shakily. "If it bleeds, we can kill it." I said belatedly.

That broke the silence. We both collapsed onto our backs now that the adrenaline rush was out of our system. Relief flooded me. And exhaustion. I almost wanted to collapse right then and there myself. Things were blurring.

"Hey Murph," I called. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Her voice was quavering. This was going to take a long time for her to bounce back from. "Are the kids okay?"

I bolted upright. The kids were all sleeping. Some of them actually moved. I stretched out my wizard senses and sighed in relief. It was natural sleep.

"Yeah, they're fine. They're all sleeping." I looked back in the general direction of the stairs. "The stairs are going to be a bitch to get up now."

Murphy groaned. "After this, I never want to see another basement again."

I nodded thoughtfully. "Hey Murph."

"What?"

"Can I have double for my service? I'm about ready to eat my shoes."

* * *

**A/N: **Delay, apologies. Then again, on my warnings, it said that you should expect this. So how do you think of this ending? Suspense filled, action packed, or none of the above? Please review. I really hoped that you enjoyed this chapter and that the ending is at _least _a bit funny.

Now, I will dedicate an imaginary cookie to the winner, catch ALL the references! :D


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